There were weary hours of watching. Ruth dozed in a corner, waking every now and then as Mary cried in pain. Her mother had tried to persuade Joseph that a childbirth was no place for the father, but to Ruth’s surprise, and Mary’s obvious relief, he had refused to leave his wife among strangers, even kind ones. He had stayed beside Mary, mostly silent, but encouraging her when he could find the words.
The night seemed endless, but at last her mother whispered that it would not be long now. More cries, more encouragement, and suddenly there it was in the dim light of the lamp, small, covered in blood and slime, crying out at leaving the warm comfort of it’s mother for the cold, hard yet wonderful world. Her mother gently wrapped the baby in a blanket and gave it to Mary, who clutched it to her breast with tears on her cheeks. Joseph congratulated her and the words brought tears from him too.
The tension that had been building up in Ruth was suddenly released, and she felt tears in her own eyes as she helped her mother tidy up. She kept turning to look at the tiny scrap of humanity held in the young mother’s arms. She saw the father take the baby gingerly and look into his eyes, as if searching for something. Then he gave him back to the mother and sat down wearily. Ruth realised that she was tired too, now it was over. All that waiting and watching and now- what?
Her mother saw her yawning. “Off to bed with you, and sleep while you can,” she said, then pulled her daughter close for a kiss. “Good night, daughter mine.”
*****
Ruth slept for a while, but her dreams were strange, full of babies and lamplight and tears and- something else. That nameless sense Ruth had felt, the anticipation of something to come, something exciting and joyful and yet- there was more than that in it. Behind the joy and wonder there was pain, and sorrow, and darkness. And somehow they were all part of it.
That feeling was still with her when she woke, in darkness but with the sense that day was near. She lay trying to remember the dream. Pain, and yet joy too. It didn’t make sense- how could you be sad and happy at the same time?
And then she remembered her own mother’s face as she had helped Mary. Ruth had no brothers, only her older sister Miriam, who was married now. But there had been other babies. One had died when he was only a few days old, another, she could just remember, when he was nearly a year. And another had been born too early, and had never even taken a breath. Ruth had been too little at the time to know what was happening, but Miriam had told her afterwards. And then her father had died, and there had been no more babies. Ruth had seen her mother look at little boys in the street sometimes with a wistful look, and sometimes a tear. She had given the baby last night the same look, and yet she had been happy, happy for the parents and happy at having helped bring the child into the world. Sad, and happy too.
And Mary, she had been in pain, even after the child was born, and yet there had been joy too, and peace. And Joseph- what had he been looking for in the baby’s eyes? There had been pain there, although hidden from Mary, and yet love.
Ruth yawned, gave up trying to sleep, and got up carefully so as not to disturb her mother. She needed some fresh air. Besides, they’d used all the water she’d got last night to clean up and wash the baby, and they would need more for breakfast.
She tiptoed into the room to get the bucket. Mary was lying asleep on the straw, Joseph sat beside her slumped over as if he had tried to stay awake and failed. Ruth crept over to look into the feedbox where they had laid the baby. He slept soundly, wrapped up in cloths on a pile of hay.
Outside the first hint of day was in the sky. It was chilly, and Ruth pulled her cloak closely around her face. Still thinking about the baby and the dream she turned out of the courtyard and walked straight into a man- tall and with rough clothes. Fear gripped her- what was he doing lurking at the entrance to their home at this time of night? And what was he going to do to her?
